Clit. Prithee, is it really the fact, Menedemus, that my father can, in so short a space of time, have cast off all the natural affection of a parent for me? For what crime? What so great enormity have I, to my misfortune, committed? Young men generally do the same.
Men. I am aware that this must be much more harsh and severe to you, on whom it falls; but yet I take it no less amiss than you. How it is so I know not, nor can I account for it, except that from my heart I wish you well.
Clit. Did not you say that my father was waiting here?
Enter Chremes from his house.
Men. See, here he is.
Menedemus goes into his house.
Chrem. Why are you blaming me, Clitipho? Whatever I have done in this matter, I had a view to you and your imprudence. When I saw that you were of a careless disposition, and held the pleasures of the moment of the first importance, and did not look forward to the future, I took measures that you might neither want nor be able to waste this which I have. When, through your own conduct, it was not allowed me to give it you, to whom I ought before all, I had recourse to those who were your nearest relations; to them I have made over and intrusted every thing.[98] There you’ll always find a refuge for your folly; food, clothing, and a roof under which to betake yourself.
Clit. Ah me!
Chrem. It is better than that, you being my heir, Bacchis should possess this estate of mine.
Syr. (apart.) I’m ruined irrevocably!—Of what mischief have I, wretch that I am, unthinkingly been the cause?